What Happened Here?
by Harrin Potter
Summary: Harry is smart, just like Roald Dahl's Matilda. Slowly, he lifts his finger and thinks one word - TILT! The glass of water tilts. Harry has always enjoyed breaking the Dursleys' rules, and breaking the Wizarding World's self-imposed rules is going to be fun. He has telekinesis powers, and he's going to use them for good. OP!Harry moves things around with his thoughts. Superpowers!
1. But School Hasn't Even Started!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, which is why this is on Fanfiction and not being published as a book (not that it would make the cut, at any rate).**

* * *

Mr and Mrs Dursley looked forward enormously to the time when they could pick their little nephew off and flick him away, preferably into the next county or even further than that. It is bad enough when adults treat ordinary children as though they were scabs and bunions, but it becomes somehow a lot worse when the child in question is extraordinary, and by that I mean sensitive and brilliant.

Harry was both of these things, but above all he was brilliant. His mind was so nimble and he was so quick to learn that his ability should have been obvious even to the most half-witted of guardians. But Mr and Mrs Dursley were both so gormless and so wrapped up in their own silly little lives that they failed to notice anything unusual about their nephew (at least in the intelligence department - anything else, though...).

Harry's cousin Dudley was a perfectly abnormal boy, and he was something to make your eyes pop. By the age of one and a half, he had already weighed over 75 pounds, and the girth of his belly was as wide as one of Mrs Dursley's larger vases. Still, Harry was more special.

By the age of two and a half Harry's speech was perfect and he knew as many words as most grown-ups. The guardians, instead of applauding him, called him a noisy chatterbox and told him sharply that freaks should not be seen and not heard.

By the time he was three, Harry had taught himself to read by studying newspapers and magazines that lay around the house. At the age of four, he could read fast and well and he naturally began hankering after books. The only book in the whole of this enlightened household was something called Easy Cooking belonging to his aunt, and when he had read this from cover to cover and had learnt all the recipes by heart, he decided he wanted something more interesting.

Harry already knew that Mr and Mrs Dursley would refuse to buy him a book, so he set out all by himself to walk to the public library in the village. When he arrived, he introduced himself to the librarian, Mrs Honey. He asked if he might sit awhile and read a book. Mrs Honey, slightly taken aback at the arrival of such a tiny boy unaccompanied by a parent, nevertheless told him he was very welcome.

"Where are the children's books please?" Harry asked.

"They're over there on those lower shelves," Mrs Honey told him. "Would you like me to help you find a nice one with lots of pictures in it?"

"No, thank you," Harry said. "I'm sure I can manage."

From then on, every afternoon, as soon as his aunt had left to chat with her neighbors, Harry would toddle down to the library. The walk took only ten minutes and this allowed him two glorious hours sitting quietly by himself in a cozy corner devouring one book after another. When he had read every single children's book in the place, he started wandering round in search of something else.

Mrs Honey, who had been watching him with fascination for the past few weeks, now got up from her desk and went over to him. "Can I help you, Harry?" he asked.

"I'm wondering what to read next," Harry said. "I've finished all the children's books."

"You mean you've looked at the pictures?"

"Yes, but I've read the books as well."

Mrs Honey looked down at Harry from her great height and Harry looked right back up at her.

"I thought some were very poor," Harry said, "but others were lovely. I liked _The Secret Garden_ best of all. It was full of mystery. The mystery of the room behind the closed door and the mystery of the garden behind the big wall."

Mrs Honey was stunned. ''Exactly how old are you, Harry?" she asked.

"Four years and three months," Harry said.

Mrs Honey was more stunned than ever, but she had the sense not to show it. "What sort of a book would you like to read next?" he asked.

Harry said, "I would like a really good one that grownups read. A famous one. I don't know any names."

Mrs Honey looked along the helves, taking her time. She didn't quite know what to bring out. How, she asked himself, does one choose a famous grown-up book for a four-year-old boy? Her first thought was to pick a young teenager's romance of the kind that is written for fifteen-year-old schoolboys, but for some reason she found herself instinctively walking past that particular shelf.

"Try this," she said at last. "It's very famous and very good. If it's too long for you, just let me know and I'll find something shorter and a bit easier."

" _Great Expectations_ ," Harry read, "by Charles Dickens. I'd love to try it."

I must be mad, Mrs Honey told herself, but to Harry she said, "Of course you may try it."

Over the next few afternoons Mrs Honey could hardly take her eyes from the small boy sitting for hour after hour in the big armchair at the far end of the room with the book on his lap. It was necessary to rest it on the lap because it was too heavy for him to hold up, which meant he had to sit leaning forward in order to read. And a strange sight it was, this tiny dark-haired person sitting there with his feet nowhere near touching the floor, totally absorbed in the wonderful adventures of Pip and old Miss Havisham and her cobwebbed house and by the spell of magic that Dickens the great storyteller had woven with his words. The only movement from the reader was the lifting of the hand every now and then to turn over a page, and Mrs Honey always felt sad when the time came for her to cross the floor and say; "It's ten to five, Harry."

During the first week of Harry's visits Mrs Honey had said to him, "Does your mother walk you down here every day and then take you home?"

"I don't have a mother," Harry said.

"O-oh," Mrs Honey stuttered. "O-oops. Er, does your guardian walk you down here every day and then take you home?"

"My aunt likes to go visiting her neighbors to drink tea and eat biscuits," Harry had said. "she doesn't know I come here."

"But that's surely not right," Mrs Honey said. "I think you'd better ask her."

"I'd rather not," Harry said. "she doesn't encourage reading books. Nor does my uncle."

"But what do they expect you to do every afternoon in an empty house?"

"Just mooch around and watch the telly."

"I see."

"She doesn't really care what I do," Harry said a little sadly.

Mrs Honey was concerned about the child's safety on the walk through the fairly busy village High Street and the crossing of the road, but she decided not to interfere.

Within a week, Harry had finished _Great Expectations_ which in that edition contained four hundred and eleven pages. "I loved it," he said to Mrs Honey. "Has Mr Dickens written any othims?"

"A great number," said the astounded Mrs Honey. "Shall I choose you another?"

Over the next six months, under Mrs Honey's watchful and compassionate eye, Harry read the following books:

 _Nicholas Nickleby_ by Charles Dickens

 _Oliver Twist_ by Charles Dickens

 _Jane Eyre_ by Charlotte Bronte

 _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen

 _Tess of the D'Urbervilles_ by Thomas Hardy

 _Gone to Earth_ by Mary Webb

 _Kim_ by Rudyard Kipling

 _The Invisible Man_ by H. G. Wells

 _The Old Man and the Sea_ by Ernest Hemingway

 _The Sound and the Fury_ by William Faulkner

 _The Grapes of Wrath_ by John Steinbeck

 _The Good Companions_ by J. B. Priestley

 _Brighton Rock_ by Graham Greene

 _Animal Farm_ by George Orwell

But to top off the list, little Harry read a special book... it was called _Matilda_ by Roald Dahl.

* * *

 _I know I'm smart..._

 _I know I can do math..._

 _I know I can do weird things..._

Shakily, Harry lifts his finger, pointing it at the glass he has placed on the ground in his cupboard. He narrows his eyes.

 _Rise!_

 _Rise!_

 _Rise!_

 _Rise!_

He continues chanting this word, though only in him mind. He's about to give up-

IT WOBBLED! The glass WOBBLED!

He was going to try again. Matilda didn't get it on him first try, either.

 _Rise rise rise rise riseriseriseriseRISE!_

The glass lifted! A whole inch!

 _RISERISERISERISERISERISE!_

The glass wobbled, but it began climbing. An inch, two inches, three, four, five, six, seven, _eight, nine, TEN, ELEVEN,_ A FOOT!

Harry gasps, though the lapse in concentration is enough for the glass to begin falling.

 _Nonononononononononononononononono_ -

At the last possible moment, the glass stops falling. It just hovers there, not moving up, but not falling down.

 _Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..._

AGAIN!

 _RISEEEEEEEEE RISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE RISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_

The glass easily clears a foot, two, three-OOPS! The glass just slammed into the top of his cupboard under the stairs. Er, at least his aunt and uncle were still asleep.

 _Hey...that sounds like a good idea_. Tentatively, he focuses his eyes on the lock on the door to his cupboard. He can hear the lock jiggling around. A click sounds. The door is now unlocked, and Harry is free to go again.

Harry wants to try his powers on something bigger than just a glass of water. Perhaps the doorknob?

 _TURN TURN TURNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!_

The doorknob slowly twists.

 _Push PUSH PUSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_

The door slowly opens. Harry grins, stepping out. It's time for a midnight snack.

* * *

 **June 23, 1991 in the Dursley Residence:**

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Dudley roared. "ONLY 37 PRESENTS?"

Harry snorted silently while he cooked the bacon and flipped some of the eggs.

"We'll get you two more later," Petunia promised.

"THAT'S ONE LESS THAN LAST YEAR!" Dudley continued. "AND I WANT MY FOOD NOW!"

"If you say so," Harry said, piling some _raw eggs and sausages_ onto a plate. "Here you go," he said, bowing his head 'respectfully'. In actuality, he just didn't want to laugh at Dudley's misfortune.

"We want food too, freak!" Vernon shouted.

"Come right up," Harry said, piling a lot more _raw_ eggs, sausages, and bacon onto another plate. "I'll be cooking more, in case you need it," he said. He needed an excuse, so _he_ can finish cooking some for himself.

Petunia smirked. "Food for me too, freak."

 _We'll see who's smirking after this_ , Harry thought. He purposely dumped the raw eggs and sausages onto an unwashed plate. _I don't like this, but if they want to rush me... why not?_

"Ah," Petunia said when Harry refuses to look at her eyes. She turned away, muttering to herself,"If only dear Lily knew her place-"

"Don't talk about the freak's parents!" Vernon shouted.

"Right, right," Petunia said, dropping her eyes, refusing to look at Vernon or Harry.

"Make some toast for yourself," Vernon said, looking at Harry. "You can eat some of the burnt eggs and sausages."

Harry nods, attempting to look glum. The food wasn't burnt at all, but he was sure that his aunt and uncle wouldn't notice. He dumped enough of the food onto the plate for him to eat, chewing slowly. _So his mother was called Lily..._

Dudley ran out to the gifts, tearing each one open. "Look! A new whiteboard and a new marker!"

He had the perfect idea, and he had _Matilda_ to thank.

* * *

 **June 30, 1991 in the Dursley Residence:**

Harry made sure that he was in the cupboard while the rest of his dysfunctional family was watching the telly so that they couldn't blame him for whatever was going to happen next. He closed his eyes as he lied down on his cot, making sure that he could envision the living room properly.

Unbeknownst to the Dursleys, a whiteboard and a marker began rustling in the pile of gifts Dudley had thrown away. It rose up and slowly floated in front of the television.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Petunia screamed.

"WHAT? HOW!?" Vernon shouted.

The marker uncapped itself, the cap falling to the ground with a thud. The television in the background quickly turned off.

The marker began writing immediately. A D... An E... An A... An R...

 _DEAR PETUNIA_

The marker then indented. Petunia looked ready to faint, and her hand was on her chest.

 _THIS IS LILY POTTER_

Petunia screamed again.

 _I AM WRITING TO LET YOU KNOW_

 _THAT I HAVE BEEN WATCHING_

 _YOUR TREATMENT OF MY SON_

 _IS UNACCEPTABLE. IF YOU CONTINUE_

 _I WILL COME BACK_

 _I WILL FIND YOU_

Just then, Harry realized that there was no more room to write. Oh well...

The board swooped closer to Petunia, nearly missing her head as it flew past, prompting another scream from Petunia, whose eyes rolled up into her head. She fell backwards and fainted. The board returned to the pile of gifts, and an eraser worked quickly to erase everything that had just been written.

"I know it was the freak," Vernon growled. "There is no such thing as ghosts."

"Harry wasn't with us, though," Dudley muttered, trying to think for once.

Vernon paused. "I suppose you might have a point. We'll wait for Petunia to wake up."

* * *

"O-oh my gosh," Petunia gasped, waking up. "N-nooo!"

"What?" Vernon asked, looking at Petunia worriedly.

"Vernon, we have to treat Harry better," Petunia said immediately. "O-or L-lily... she'll come for us!"

"What?"

"Vernon, we have to-"

"I heard what you said, but I'm fairly certain that this is the doing of the freak."

"N-no, Vernon. In t-t-their world, t-the freaks have actual ghosts!"

"W-what?"

"V-vernon, this just won't do. We'll have to treat him better."

"O-okay."

* * *

The next day, Harry found that he was being moved to Dudley's second bedroom. The Dursleys left him alone now, too, letting him do whatever he wanted to do.

* * *

"The boy is going to the... the freaky school, Vernon," Petunia said. "No question about sending him to Stonewall High. Do you want to see him everyday? It's not a boarding school, after all."

Vernon quickly shook his head. "No, no, he's going with the freaks."

Harry came out of his cupboard. "What happened?"

"The letter should be arriving soon," Petunia said, ignoring Harry.

"Hey, that reminds me," Vernon said. "Someone should get the mail. Dudley!?"

"Make Harry get it."

"Harry?"

"Make Dudley get it."

"Dudley!"

"Make Harry get it."

"Harry!"

"Make Dudley get it."

"Harry, you're getting it."

"Fine..." Harry muttered, walking off to get the mail. Thumbing through it, he found- "My very own letter!" Harry exclaimed. "How wonderful! Let me show my uncle and aunt."

Uncle Vernon had paled, and Aunt Petunia had whimpered.

"It's for the best," Vernon said to Petunia. "We don't want him here with us for much longer. Maybe his f-freaky school will keep him away."

The two easily agreed to Harry going to Hogwarts.

* * *

Harry pushed his trolley round and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk towards it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that ticket box and then he'd be in trouble – leaning forward on his trolley he broke into a heavy run – the barrier was coming nearer and nearer – he wouldn't be able to stop – the trolley was out of control – he was a foot away – he closed his eyes ready for the crash –

It didn't come … he kept on running … he opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the ticket box had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to each other in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his trolley off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then levitated the trunk up.

"What just happened here?" one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the ticket box asked. "We were going to offer help, but it seems like you don't need it!"

"Uh... thanks?" said Harry.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you –?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawked at him and Harry felt himself going red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum."

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please review (makes me feel better), favorite, and follow!**


	2. But You're Only A Firstie!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, which is why this is on Fanfiction and not being published as a book (not that it would make the cut, anyways).**

* * *

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry" he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him …"

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look …"

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway –"

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er – all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,

Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Ron and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learnt all the set books off by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"I know," Harry said. "I've read those."

"Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad … Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell – George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol – I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers's whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now they've left, anyway?"

Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles – someone tried to rob a high-security vault."

Harry stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er – I don't know any," Harry confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world –" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered and Harry recognised the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing either side of the pale boy they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford."

"Excuse me," Harry said. "That's not very nice of you."

Malfoy sniffed daintily. "I don't need to be nice. I'm a Malfoy. See, you'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, like that blood traitor Weasley. I can help you there."

"There's no wrong sort but you," Harry said coldly.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid and it'll rub off on you."

"That's extremely offensive," Harry said, standing up with Ron. "Take that back," he said confidently.

Malfoy looked a bit nervous, but he pushed it down. "Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?"

"Sure," Harry said.

"Crabbe! Goyle! Seize the bloody-"

BANG!

The three of them - Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle lay spread outside the compartment. Harry's powers had acted up again, hadn't they...

"Blimey, mate!" Ron shouted. "That was amazing!"

Harry blushed.

"You've chosen the wrong enemy," Malfoy hissed, attempting to sit up. "Wait until my father hears about this!"

"Watch him try," Harry said. "I'll be ready for the bloody Death Eater."

"My goodness!" Hermione screeched. "What happened here?"

"E-er, nothing!" Harry exclaimed, waving his arms, as if he was trying to cover up the scene.

"You'll have to teach me how to do that, mate!" Ron exclaimed.

"WHAT HAPPENED HERE?" Hermione bellowed.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Ron yelled back. "But it looked pretty cool. Teach me, mate! Teach me!"

Harry smiled. "This is completely wandless and non-verbal-"

"Mate, you're the second coming of Merlin!" Ron exclaimed.

"We'll see about that!" Malfoy spat. "My father will hear about-!"

"You've already said that," Harry said.

"Don't interrupt me!" Malfoy continued. "When my father hears that you interrupted me-"

"Stop it," Harry said, annoyed. A force began guiding Malfoy out of the compartment, walking him down the hallway. To any observers, this movement looked completely natural and not forced at all. Harry had made sure his facial expression looked smooth, his legs were walking normally, and his hands were swinging.

Crabbe and Goyle sat up. "Boss?"

Malfoy turned around, his mouth opened to say something. Harry gritted his teeth. This was harder than he thought. Malfoy couldn't say anything, though.

"Close that mouth," Ron snickered. "Or else some flies will get in there."

Malfoy blushed red, turning back and walking.

"Boss?" Crabbe asked again.

Malfoy ignored them, walking further and further.

"I think your young boss wants you to follow him into the restroom," Ron said, snorting. There was Malfoy, latched onto the restroom compartment's door.

 _Lift his hand._

Malfoy's hand rose up against his will.

 _Curl his index finger_.

Malfoy beckoned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him.

"I think Boss went crazy," Goyle muttered.

"Right," Crabbe said.

Hermione had stayed next to Harry and Ron, her hands on her hips. "What just happened here?" she hissed.

* * *

"Ron," Harry said, sitting on his bed.

"Yeah, mate?" Ron asked.

"You wanted to know how I can use telekinesis, right?"

"Er, yeah," Ron said.

"Here's what you do. I brought my book copy of _Matilda_ along with me, so here it is."

"What's _Matilda_?" Ron asked, excited. "Is it some manual to becoming the second coming of Merlin?"

"In a way," Harry said, grinning.

"Oooooh gimme!"

"One sec," Harry said. "Let me read out the important parts to you. You can read the rest of the book later."

"Okay," Ron said. "Definitely better than reading the whole book."

"It's not a long book," Harry said, searching for the right paragraph. "Right, here it is! Do you have a cup or something?"

"I have a quill," Ron said. "Is that too light?"

"No, it'll be good practice," Harry said. "What you need to do is concentrate. Focus."

Ron nodded, narrowing his eyes at the quill he had placed on the ground.

"Now shout the word ' _Rise!_ '-"

"RISE!"

"-without saying it."

"W-what?"

"Think the word as _loud_ as you can think it."

Ron narrowed his eyes again. Harry didn't know exactly what he was thinking, but the feather tentatively wobbled.

"That's progress," Harry said. "We have seven years to perfect this. I'm sure there's next time!"

"But mate, I want to learn it now!"

"It took me many tries," Harry said. "Just keep practicing until you feel tired."

"I will," Ron promised. "I will."

"What's happening here?" Dean Thomas asked, waking up.

"E-er, nothing," Harry insisted.

* * *

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh …" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "… you've forgotten something …"

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry sneered, lifting his hand. The Remembrall shot into his palm, and Harry handed it to a shell-shocked Neville. "Here you go!"

Malfoy's eyes widened, and he ran off. Professor McGonagall appeared. "What happened here?"

"E-er, nothing!"Harry exclaimed, waving his arms, as if he was trying to cover up the scene.

* * *

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and –

Harry stretched out his fingers, stopping Neville halfway. Neville was slowly levitated back down to the ground.

"Thanks," Neville muttered.

Madam Hooch turned around. "I'm lost. What just happened here? Neville, you look deathly pale. Let's go to the Hospital Wing."

Neville protested, but Madam Hooch levitated him up. "Nobody get on their brooms while I'm gone," she snapped, entering the castle.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect – how about – up a tree?""Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt on to his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well – hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grinned, holding up his hand.

"Can't stop me now!" Malfoy shouted. The broom had too much power for Harry to stop it. But he _could_ do something.

Harry summoned the Remembrall back to him. Malfoy looked at him, surprised. Wait a second-

He had used too much power, and the Remembrall was flying into a different direction!

Harry hopped onto his broom and snatched the Remembrall a foot before it slammed into the ground.

"What happened here?" Professor McGonagall shouted, striding down to the first years. Nobody responded.

* * *

Harry was just helping himself to a jacket potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table and gasped, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first-years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first-years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a Prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Hallowe'en joke."

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"I've just thought – Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron bit his lip.

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor and hurried off towards the girls' toilets. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Harry behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.

"Can you smell something?"

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it – a low grunting and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed: at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving towards them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The key's in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

They edged towards the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door and lock it.

"Yes!"

Flushed with their victory they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop – a high, petrified scream – and it was coming from the chamber they'd just locked up.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"It's the girls' toilets!" Harry gasped.

"Hermione!" they said together.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic – Harry pulled the door open – they ran inside.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"STOP!" Harry shouted, extending his fingers. The troll grunted as a force held him back. Unfortunately, he was magic-resistant, so...

"STOP!" Ron shouted too, extending his fingers.

"He's magic resistant, Ron!" Harry exclaimed. "I don't think it'll work!"

"STOP!" Ron shouted again, but the troll paid him no mind. "We need to do something-" The troll continued to advance on Hermione-

"HIT HIM!" Harry screamed, pointing at the club. The club lifted and knocked the troll back.

The troll grunted and tried punching the club.

"HIT HIM!" Ron shrieked, pointing at the club. The troll was literally right next to Ron, and Ron did _not_ want it to wake up from its stupor.

The club lifted itself and bashed the troll's head - hard. The troll sank down onto the ground. Just then, the trio heard footsteps.

"What happened here?" Professor McGonagall asked, her hand clutching her chest in worry.

Hermione stepped forward.

* * *

Later, when the trio was out of Professor McGonagall's sight, Hermione turned around, looking at Harry and Ron.

"You two are going to teach me how you do this," she grumbled. "Are you like the second coming of Merlin?"

Ron leaned against the wall, trying to look as hot as possible. "Of course."

"W-wait, really?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry said, snorting. "It just takes a little book called _Matilda_ and a little bit of practice."

"Great!" Hermione exclaimed. "Teach me how to do it, please!"

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please review (makes me feel better), favorite, and follow!**


	3. In the Hall of the Quirrellmort!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, which is why this is on Fanfiction and not being published as a book (not that it would make the cut, at any rate).**

* * *

Harry pushed the door open.

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes …" He held his hand out, trying to stop the dog from moving. Harry gasped in pain - the dog, a magical creature, was clearly powerful enough to stop his telekinesis. "E-er, let's try the flute, then."

He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased – it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the Cloak and crept towards the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads.

"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Nothing – just black – there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ron to get his attention and pointed at himself.

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."

Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.

"Here's what we'l do," Harry said. "I'll levitate myself down first. That way, I can keep you two in the air when we're down there."

"Brilliant!" Ron cheered.

Harry climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom.

He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," said Ron.

"See you in a minute, I hope …"

And Harry let go. From the start, Harry began exerting his powers-

 _SLOW SLOW SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWLY_ -

Harry almost touched the ground, but he remained in the air. There was something on the ground... Harry had a bad feeling about it.

"It's OK!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp which was the open trapdoor. "You can jump!"

Ron followed straight away. Harry's eyes could make out someone falling from above.

 _LIFT RISE DON'T LET HIM FALLLLLLLLL-_

He had stopped Ron from touching the thing on the ground (fortunately).

"What's this stuff?" were his first words.

"Dunno, sort of plant thing. Come on, Hermione!"

The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermione had already jumped. Down and down and down-

 _LIFT RISE DON'T LET HER FALLLLLLLL_ -

Hermione was stopped an inch above the ground.

"We must be miles under the school," she said.

"Er, yes," said Ron. "And look! I can fly!" Ron exclaimed, pointing at himself. "Harry, I think you can release us."

"Okay," Harry said, releasing the three of them. The three fell onto the ground, and immediately, a vine began snaking around them. "W-what?"

"What is this?" Ron asked, struggling against the vines.

"It's Devil's Snare!" Hermione shrieked. "What are we going to do?"

"How do you fight it?" Ron asked. "What are its weaknesses?"

"Fire," Hermione said. "We need fire!"

"Then light fire!" Ron roared.

"But we don't have wood!"

"ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

"O-oh yeah!" Hermione said in realization. She shot some blue flames at the vines on herself, Harry, and Ron.

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway which was the only way on.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downwards and Harry was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully grown dragon – Norbert had been bad enough …

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"I don't know … sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead – I can see something moving."

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy, wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once … Well, there's nothing for it … I'll run."

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.

The other two followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora Charm.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"These birds … they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.

They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering – glittering?

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly, "they're keys! Winged keys – look carefully. So that must mean …" he looked around the chamber while the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. "… Yes – look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!"

Ron examined the lock on the door.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one – probably silver, like the handle."

They seized a broomstick each and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

"Stop them!" Harry called. The trio put their heads together (figuratively) and-

 _STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!_

The keys all paused. They stopped moving. Harry's eyes quickly pinned down the exact key. Harry let the rest of the keys move again (it was tough getting them to stop), but he made sure that the large silver key with a bent wing wouldn't move.

"I'll get it!" Ron shouted, lunging downwards. "Got it!"

Harry and Hermione's cheers echoed around the high chamber.

They landed quickly and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned – it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Harry asked the other two, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Ron and Hermione shivered slightly – the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

"How?" said Hermione nervously.

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

"Wait a second," Harry said. "I can levitate us across-"

"No, Harry," Hermione said. "You're already tired! You can't fight V-Y-you-Know-Who in any worse of a state!"

Harry sighed. "Fine. Ron, Hermione, let's play."

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we – er – have to join you to get across?"

The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other two.

"This wants thinking about …" he said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces …"

Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess –"

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board leaving three empty squares which Harry, Ron and Hermione took.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes … look …"

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost?

"Harry – move diagonally four squares to the right."

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, face down.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think – let me think …"

The white queen turned her blank face towards him.

"Yes …" said Ron softly, "it's the only way … I've got to be taken."

"NO!" Harry and Hermione shouted.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me – that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But –"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron –"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was nothing else for it.

"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go–"

"WAIT A SECOND!" Harry shouted. "The moment you step onto that piece, the queen is going to go for you, right?"

"Well, yeah," Ron said.

"Then once you step on it, we'll levitate you across. That way, you won't be too injured!"

"Oh yeah!"

"Hermione, do you think you could help me?"

"Of course!"

"Three-two-one-GO!"

Ron stepped onto the piece, and the White Queen was sneering at him. She raised her hand-

 _SIDEWAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYS_ -

Ron quickly flew off the board, though he didn't seem too hurt. "Okay, I'll continue directing you two from here! Harry, move three to the left!"

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left. He was pretty exhausted by now, though he was lucky that he had Ron and Hermione with him.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, Harry and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's –?"

"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare – Flitwick must've put charms on the keys – McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive – that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's …"

They had reached another door.

"All right?" Harry whispered.

"Go on."

Harry pushed it open.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head. "Thank Merlin we didn't have to fight that," Harry whispered, as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "I'm already so tired. Come on, I can't breathe."

He pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next – but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"

They stepped over the threshold and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onwards. They were trapped.

"I can levitate us," Harry said. "Above the flames-"

"NO!" Hermione shouted, quickly scanning the parchment. She turned around. "This is the last protection, the one right before Dumbledore's! If you're tired, V-Y-you-Know-Who might kill you!"

"Yeah!" Ron butted in.

"But what about you guys?"

"We're fine," Ron said. "So which potion do we drink?"

 _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

 _Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

 _One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

 _Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

 _Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

 _Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

 _Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,_

 _To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

 _First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

 _You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

 _Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

 _But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;_

 _Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

 _Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

 _Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

 _Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.

"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic – it's logic – a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here for ever."

"But so will we, won't we?"

"Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"Give me a minute."

Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.

"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire – towards the Stone."

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly enough for one to swallow."

They looked at each other.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You drink that," said Harry. "No, listen – get back – grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy – go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him really."

"No," Hermione said. "I have an idea. You can teach the two of us how to levitate and throw things like you, so Ron or me could levitate the three of us across the flames. Your original idea was ingenious."

"Then who would take the bottle?" Harry asked.

"You, mate," Ron said. "You're the most exhausted. What if you can't make it across?"

"Exactly," Hermione said. "We'll levitate ourselves across, and you can drink the vial."

Harry chugged on the vial - well, actually, there was nothing _to_ chug on. There was barely any liquid. He turned to face the black flames.

"Here I come," he said.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body but couldn't feel them – for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire – then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron pointed at themselves and flew across the flames.

There was already someone there – but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.

"What just happened here?" Professor Quirrell hissed. "How did you get three people across?"

Three minds thought the same exact idea - _UP!_

Within a second, the back of Quirrell's head slammed into the ceiling. "OWWWWWWWWWWWWIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" a voice cried. It wasn't Professor Quirrell's voice... what could it be?"

"Let's make his head slam into the ceiling," Ron whispered. "He deserves it for trying to steal the stone."

"OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-"

Blood was beginning to trickle down.

"Er, guys," Hermione said. "I think we should stop now. We don't want to get in trouble for killing a professor, do we? We'll keep him up there just in case-ooh- _EXPELLIARMUS!_ " The spell slammed into Professor Quirrell with enough force to knock his head back into the wall. A wand fell down, and Professor Quirrell blacked out.

Harry snorted. "Let's look at Dumbledore's protection-"

Ron and Harry looked at each other. "It's the Mirror of Erised," Ron exclaimed.

"The Mirror of _WHAT_?" Hermione asked.

"It shows you your heart's desire," Harry said, stopping himself from looking into the mirror. "Professor Dumbledore said not to look into it."

"It can't be that bad," Hermione said. She looked into the mirror. "How is this a protection? There isn't even a Stone!"

"What do you see?" Ron asked eagerly.

Hermione blushed. "N-nothing."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, an old man burst into the room, his wand drawn.

"What happened here?" Albus Dumbledore shouted. "My gosh, what happened to Professor Quirrell?"

Dumbledore quickly stunned Quirrell, striding back to the previous rooms. "It's a good thing that you came when you did," Dumbledore said. "Or else Voldemort might have gotten the Stone, and then where would we be?"

"Is the Stone safe?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore said. "Thanks to you three, Nicholas Flamel can now live longer. I'll be sure to write him a letter."

"Wonderful!" Harry cheered. "Where are we taking Quirrellmort?"

"Quirrellmort?"

"Professor Quirrell, I mean," Harry said. "It's just that he's been working for Voldemort, so..."

"Ah, I see," Professor Dumbledore said. "He's going to the Hospital Wing. We'll see what's wrong with him there."

"Great!" Ron chimed in.

"Dear me, I almost forgot! 60 points to Gryffindor for each of you, and 5 points to Gryffindor for Neville!"

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please review (makes me feel better), favorite, and follow!**


	4. Escape from the Dursleys!

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

"Today is a special day!"

Harry looked up, hardly daring to believe it.

"This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career," said Uncle Vernon.

Harry went back to his toast. Of course, he thought bitterly, Uncle Vernon was talking about the stupid dinner party. He'd been talking of noth ing else for two weeks. Some rich builder and his wife were coming to dinner and Uncle Vernon was hoping to get a huge order from him (Uncle Vernon's company made drills).

"I think we should run through the schedule one more time," said Uncle Vernon. "We should all be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be -?"

"In the lounge," said Aunt Petunia promptly, "waiting to welcome them graciously to our home."

"Good, good. And Dudley?

"I'll be waiting to open the door." Dudley put on a foul, simpering smile. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

"They'll love him!" cried Aunt Petunia rapturously.

"Excellent, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon. Then he rounded on Harry." And you?"

"I'll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry tonelessly. _Actually, the joke's on_ you _, fat walruses (and a giraffe)! You probably don't know it, but I've already gotten my school supplies and everything from where you tried to hide it. I'll be studying ahead for my Arithmancy and History of Magic classes!_

"Exactly," said Uncle Vernon nastily. "I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them -drinks. At eight-fifteen -"

"I'll announce dinner," said Aunt Petunia.

"And, Dudley, you'll say -"

"May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?" said Dudley, offering his fat arm to an invisible woman.

"My perfect little gentleman!" sniffed Aunt Petunia.

"And you?" said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry.

"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry dully.

"Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?"

"Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason... Do tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason..."

"Perfect. . . Dudley?"

"How about -'We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you."

Harry was lucky that he could use telekinesis on himself. Otherwise, there would have been no way to stop the laughter from bursting from his mouth.

* * *

Harry crossed to his bedroom, slipped inside, closed the door, and turned to jump on his bed.

The trouble was that there was already someone standing on it.

Harry managed not to shout out, but it was a close thing. The little creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. Harry knew instantly that this was what had been watching him out of the garden hedge that morning.

As they stared at each other, Harry heard Dudley's voice from the hall.

"May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

The creature slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm and leg-holes.

"Er - hello," said Harry nervously.

"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry was sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir... Such an honor it is..."

"Th-thank you," said Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into his desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage. He wanted to ask, "What are you?" but thought it would sound too rude,so instead he said, "Who are you?"

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.

"Oh - really?" said Harry. "Great! Would you like to sit down?" After all, he _had_ seen and read about weirder things...

Aunt Petunias high, false laugh sounded from the living room.

To his horror, the elf burst into tears - very noisy tears.

"S-sit down!" he wailed. "Never... never ever..."

Harry thought he heard the voices downstairs falter.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything -"

"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard - like an equal-"

Harry, trying to say "Shh!" and look comforting at the same time, ushered Dobby back onto the bed where he sat hiccoughing, looking like a large and very ugly doll. At last he managed to control himself and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.

"Oh, Dobby," Harry said, throwing his arms around the house-elf.

"H-hugs, too!" Dobby wailed. "Never... never ever..."

"Oh my," Harry said, cradling Dobby's head. "Sounds like you need lots of hugs." Harry clung to Dobby in the same way he had seen Ron cling to Scabbers in his sleep. Speaking of Scabbers, that rat was seriously creepy. Harry could sworn that the rat had been staring at him while he was undressed. "Your wizard should have given you hugs too!"

Dobby nodded quickly. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"Don't - what are you doing?" Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed -

Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and was beating her wings wildly against the bars of her cage.

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir..."

"Your family?"

"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir... Dobby is a house-elf bound to serve one house and one family forever . ...

"Do they know you're here?" asked Harry curiously.

Dobby shuddered.

"Oh, no, sir, no... Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir."

"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"

"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments..."

"But why don't you leave? Escape?"

"A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free... Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir..."

Harry stared.

"And I thought I had it bad staying here for another four weeks," he said. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can't anyone help you? Can't I?"

Almost at once, Harry wished he hadn't spoken. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.

"Please," Harry whispered frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here -"

"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby ... Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew."

Harry, who was feeling distinctly hot in the face, said, "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top of my year at Hogwarts; that's Hermione, she -"

But he stopped quickly, because thinking about Hermione was painful.

"Harry Potter is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -"

"Voldemort?" said Harry.

Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"

"Sorry" said Harry quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My friend Ron -"

He stopped again. Thinking about Ron was painful, too.

Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes wide as headlights.

'Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time just weeks ago... that Harry Potter captured the Dark Lord himself, but the Dark Lord escaped. Yet again. "

Harry nodded and Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears.

"Ah, sir," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later... Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

There was a silence broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Vernon's voice.

"W-what?" Harry stammered. "But I've got to go back - term starts on September first. It's all that's keeping me going. You don't know what it's like here. I don't belong here. I belong in your world - at Hogwarts."

"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great,too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" said Harry in surprise

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year,"whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.

"All right! You don't need to hurt yourself!" cried Harry, snapping his fingers. Dobby immediately stopped and stared at Harry.

"S-sir," Dobby began. "Y-you can use _elven magic_?"

"Er... what's that?"

Dobby looked reverent. "I-it is the magic of Dobby's ancestors! The wild elves!"

"Uh, no?" Harry said uncertainly. "I thought all wizards could do it. Hermione and Ron certainly can."

Dobby looked puzzled now. "B-but Dobby thought that only elves-eh, whatever."

"Anyways," Harry said. "While you're in my room, I order you not to harm yourself."

Dobby looked relieved. "T-thank you, Harry Potter sir! But it is only young master Draco who makes me hurt myself-" With another shriek, Dobby leaped at the wall. A moment later, an invisible force pulled him back to the ground. Harry snapped his fingers again, preventing the walls from vibrating whenever they spoke. That way, the muggles downstairs would no longer hear sounds. The last thing Harry wanted was for Vernon to come in and find that Harry had magical artifacts and a house-elf.

Harry knew at once who Dobby's owners were. There was only one 'young Draco' in Wizarding England, and that was Draco _Malfoy_. With this in mind, Harry had to get clarification. "Is 'young master' going to do something bad?" Harry asked.

Dobby shook his head. "Not young master Draco."

"Is your master going to do something bad?" Harry asked. Dobby nodded immediately before flinging himself at the wall again. Harry snapped his fingers again. "Dobby, don't hurt yourself!"

Tears of gratitude poured out of the elf's eyes. "T-thank you, Great Harry Potter! Thank you so much!"

"It's fine," Harry said, bringing the house-elf back for another hug. "You need lots of warm hugs! Next question: What is your master planning?"

"D-dobby is not allowed to say," Dobby said. "Or Dobby will be punished once he gets back to his house."

"Wait," Harry said. "If I detailed what punishment you would get, then you wouldn't have to punish yourself once you get back to your house, right?"

Dobby nodded fearfully. "The Great Harry Potter would punish me?"

Harry grinned. "Once you tell me what your master is planning, I want you to punish yourself... by giving me a hug!"

Dobby squealed in joy. "Yessir! Dobby heard Master talking to Mister Nott about sending a book - a diary - to a young 'blood traitor' girl called Weasels!"

Harry gasped. "What's wrong with this diary?"

Dobby shrugged. "Dobby doesn't know... but if Master wants something to do with a Weasel, then he doesn't have something good to do with the Weasel!"

Harry nodded in agreement. "Thanks for the tip, Dobby," Harry said. "But why does that mean that I can't go to Hogwarts?"

"The Great Harry Potter will be in grave danger!" Dobby exclaimed. "Where would the Wizarding World be without the Great Harry Potter?"

"Dobby," Harry said, hugging Dobby even tighter. "If I don't go to Hogwarts and get an education, then what happens when Voldemort-"

"The name!" Dobby gasped. "Do not speak of the monster!"

"R-right," Harry said. "But what happens when V-You-Know-Who comes back?"

"The Great Harry Potter will fight him!" Dobby said.

"But the Great Harry Potter can't fight him if he doesn't know _how_ to fight him."

"So the Great Harry Potter must go to Hogwarts, then?" Dobby asked. "Dobby had hoped that things wouldn't come to this." Dobby jumped off the bed and landed deftly on the floor. He dashed for the door, and-

THUMP.

Dobby had slammed into the door. Harry had used his telekinetic powers (unconsciously) to stop Dobby from opening the doors again.

"Come back here," Harry said. "Another hug!"

Dobby moaned in pain. "The Great Harry Potter is still kind to Dobby, even after what Dobby did!"

"Look," Harry said. "It's fine. I get that you're trying to protect me, but I need to go back to Hogwarts! It's where all my friends are!"

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?" said Dobby slyly.

"I expect they've just been - wait a minute," said Harry, frowning."How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?"

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best -"

"Have you been stopping my letters?"

"Dobby has them here, sir," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry's reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry could make out Hermione's neat writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked as though it was from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.

Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry... Dobby hoped... if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him... Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir..."

Harry grinned. Dobby's attempt to avoid him wasn't enough to stop Harry. He snapped his fingers, and all the letters immediately came to Harry.

"Darn it!" Dobby exclaimed.

"Can't we just talk this through?" Harry pleaded.

Dobby nodded.

* * *

The door flew open just as Dobby threw himself under Harry's blankets.

"What have you been doing here, boy?" Vernon shouted, his face purple with rage. "I heard _noises_ up here! Moans and groans!"

* * *

"Ooh!" Harry exclaimed. "A letter from the Weasleys!"

Almost at once, Harry began writing a reply-

There was a knock on the door, though everyone else in the Dursley residence - Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley - they were all asleep. Harry could hear Vernon snoring from his bedroom.

Harry sighed. It had to be _him_ who was going to open the door. What if the man who was knocking on the door was a criminal? A Death Eater? What if it wasn't a _man_ , but a woman? What if it was _the_ Bellatrix Lestrange?

Harry shuddered. There was no need for his thoughts to go in that direction. Taking a deep breath, he walked down the stairs, attempting to be as silent as possible. Apart from a creak on the second step, he succeeded in this mission.

He slowly tip-toed across the living room, finally reaching the door. There was a louder knock on the door.

"Coming," Harry whispered.

The knocks became louder. "I'm right here," Harry whispered again, unlocking the door. "Welcome to our house - why is a wizard standing in front of my house?"

The man who had been knocking so insistently was a young dark-haired man. "Hi!" he chirped. "Is this Harry Potter's residence?"

"Shhhhh!" Harry quickly shushed. "What if my aunt and uncle heard you?"

The man tilted his head. "Albus said that your living conditions were perfectly fine."

"U-uh, y-yes, t-they are!" Harry exclaimed. Vernon's snores stopped.

"Wonderful!" the man exclaimed. "Come on, Penny!"

A young woman stepped out of the shadows. Harry gave a start - he hadn't realized there was a person there.

"Er... who are you?"

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Nicholas Flamel," the man said, pointing at himself. "And that's Penny - but you probably know her better as Perenelle Flamel."

Harry's jaws swung open. "No way."

"Yes way," the woman - Penny - uh, Perenelle, said.

"I can't believe it!" Harry shouted.

"You'd better believe it!" Perenelle said.

"B-but-"

"BUT WHAT?" Harry didn't notice it, but this time... Neither Perenelle nor Nicholas had moved their lips.

"I don't know," Harry said.

"BOY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT WITH YOUR FREAKY FRIENDS!?"

Evidently, Harry's shouting _might have_ woken Vernon and Petunia up. Harry flinched, preparing to go back up to his room.

"WHY, I'D BETTER LOCK YOU IN THE BATHROOM FOR THIS!"

Nicholas' eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare!"

"AND WHO ARE YOU, FREAK?"

"I'm Nicholas Flamel."

Vernon looked at him. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"Well, yes," Nicholas said. "I became famous when I lived in Muggle Paris for some ten or twenty years."

"Well I don't care who you are, freak, but you'd better get out of my house!"

"We will!" Perenelle shouted back.

Vernon's jaw dropped. "And who are you, pretty lady?"

Nicholas, Perenelle, and Harry all snorted. "Someone smart enough to see your ugliness."

"W-why, you-"

"In fact, we'd love to take Harry with us when we leave," Perenelle continued. "Would you like to go with us, Harry?"

"What the boy wants doesn't matter," Vernon growled.

"I think it does," Perenelle said.

"He's going with you, and that's final!" Vernon yelled.

"Er..." Perenelle looked hopelessly at Nicholas. "He's giving away Harry when he doesn't even know who I am? Can I hex him?"

"No," Nicholas said. "Come on, Harry. Do you want to come with us?"

"Are you serious?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I m-mean, if you don't want to stay with us, it's fine," Nicholas said.

"We haven't taken care of a child in so long... we just thought..."

"Are you kidding me?" Harry asked again. "Of course I'd like to go with you!" Harry waved his hand, and all his stuff came floating down the stairs.

"The freak took his stuff out of his cupboard under the stairs?" Vernon asked himself.

"Yeah, cause you can't keep me or my stuff in there for much longer," Harry told him smugly. Vernon let out a roar of outrage, so Harry quickly bolted from his house. Nicholas and Perenelle followed him down the driveway.

Vernon grinned. Today felt so much better without the freak! He looked at his watch. And it was only 2:06 AM!

He surveyed the neighborhood again. _All the lights were on in all the houses_. Uh-oh. This wasn't good. And he could see his neighbors craning their heads to look at him. Uh-oh. Oh no.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please review (makes me feel better), favorite, and follow!**


	5. Fighting Off the Bad Faith Malfoys!

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

"Whoa," Harry breathed. "This place is..."

"Magnificent?" Nicholas suggested.

"Beautiful?" Perenelle added.

"Wonderful?"

"Amazing?"

"Awesome?"

"Awe-inspiring?"

"Cool?"

"Have I said 'Beautiful' yet?" Perenelle asked.

"No," Nicholas said.

"Yes," Harry said.

"Er..." Perenelle trailed off. "Right. So let's find you a good new room."

Harry looked at her. "I'll be fine with any," he said. "I was happy with Dudley's second bedroom-"

"SECOND BEDROOM?" Perenelle screeched.

"-after they moved me from the cupboard under the stairs," Harry continued.

"CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS?" Nicholas screeched.

"Harry, it's a wonder that you turned out as well as you did!" Perenelle exclaimed.

"Er," Harry said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "I like to thank my books for that."

"Why?" Nicholas asked.

"They helped me ever since I was with the Dursleys," Harry explained. "I found this one book, _Matilda_ , to be very interesting."

"I see," Nicholas said, sounding as if he didn't see.

"At any rate, why did you come to pick me up?" Harry asked.

Nicholas laughed. "We didn't."

"T-then how-why?"

"We came to thank you for saving our stone," Perenelle said. "But when we saw how you were treated..."

"We just couldn't leave you there," Nicholas finished.

"T-thanks," Harry said, blushing. He threw himself at Nicholas and Perenelle for a hug. "Is this what it feels like to have surrogate parents?"

Nicholas and Perenelle blushed. "I wouldn't call it that... yet..."

"Then what would you call it?" Harry asked.

Nicholas grinned. "A new guardian?"

"Foster parents?" Perenelle suggested.

"Auntie?"

"Uncle?"

"Great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great granddaddy?"

"Great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandmummy?"

"I get it, I get it," Harry said, rolling his eyes affectionately.

"Great," Perenelle said. "Now my throat hurts. Time for some water, right?"

Nicholas grinned. "I don't know, Penny. I know another liquid that can fill your mouth up just as fine-"

Harry quickly covered his ears. "I don't need to hear this!"

Perenelle snorted. "We haven't done that in a while, have we?"

"Didn't we just do that two days ago?" Nicholas asked.

"What are you talking about?" Perenelle asked. "The Elixir of Life, right?"

"T-the E-elixir o-of L-l-l-life," Nicholas whimpered, fearful of what Perenelle was going to do to him. "O-of course, I w-was talking about the E-elixir of L-life."

"Yeah, right," Perenelle said.

Meanwhile, Harry took his hands off his ears. "What just happened here?"

"Nothing," Perenelle said sweetly.

"Yeah, right, nothing," Nicholas added quickly.

* * *

"I'm glad that Harry told us that he was going to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys," Penny said to Nick loudly enough for Harry to hear her from his room next door.

"Oops," Harry shouted back. "I read the letter just when you arrived at the Dursley residence."

"Whatever the cause, Mrs. Weasley is waiting for you at the Weasley residence."

"Oh, I did tell her that I would be able to make it," Harry said thoughtfully.

"She just sent us a Howler!" Penny yelled back.

"Oh, I did just put on my earmuffs," Harry continued.

"Harry, just go to the Weasley house already!"

"I will, I will," Harry promised. He stepped out of his room and slid down the stairs by sitting on the rail. He jumped off at the last moment and ran to the door. "Bye!"

"Wait, what do you think you're doing?" Penny asked. It sounded as if she was at the fireplace.

"Uh... walking to the Weasley-"

"No, no," Penny said. "Use the Floo!"

"The Floo?"

"The fireplace has its own transportation network," Penny explained. "Come over here!"

Harry, following her instructions, ran into the fireplace room. "No wonder the fireplace had its own room!"

Penny rolled her eyes. "Why else? Now, what you need to do is take the Floo powder - the green powder - and throw it into the fire. _Incendio_!" The fireplace began burning, and Harry threw in the powder. Immediately, the fire turned green.

"The Burrow!" Harry shouted, jumping into the fireplace.

He tumbled out of the Weasleys' fireplace.

"Harry!" A large (by Harry's standards) red-haired woman lunged for him. Almost instinctively, he backed up, before realizing that there was a fire at his back. Yelping, he ran forward-

Into the hug.

"Whoa, you scared me!" Harry exclaimed.

"Ah," Mrs. Weasley said. "That was not intentional. Here, another hug!" She lunged for Harry again and dragged him into another hug. "Wonderful! Percy! Ginny! Ron! Fred! George!"

"Yes, mum?" a little red-haired girl asked, her head stretched just around the corner. "Eep! It's Harry Potter!"

"Yes, mum?" Fred - or George - oh, both appeared.

"Yes, mum?" Ron asked, running down the stairs. "Ooh, Harry!" he lunged for Harry in a way that eerily reminded Harry of his mother, jumping over the remaining stairs. Harry found himself pulled into another hug.

"H-harry isn't _gay_ , is he?" Harry heard Ginny whisper to Fred. "I mean, how can we be together if he is?"

"Turn yourself into a man," George whispered back.

Harry pulled back from the hug, trying to glare at George, Fred, and Ginny, but he couldn't find the heart in him to do so.

"Yes, mother?" Percy asked, still in the middle of writing a letter to someone.

"Come on, we're going to Diagon Alley now that Harry's with us. ARTHUR?"

"Coming, dear! You guys can go on ahead!"

"I suppose we will," Mrs. Weasley said. "Percy first-"

"-like always," Fred said.

"Always perfect," George added.

"Always prefect," Fred continued.

"Prissy!" George finished.

"Oh, you two," Mrs. Weasley said dismissively. "Percy first, Harry second, Ron third, Ginny fourth, George fifth, and Fred sixth."

Percy clambered into the fireplace. With a shout of "Diagon Alley!", Percy was gone moments later. Harry stepped forward, taking a handful of the powder. He took a deep breath.

"It's okay, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling at him encouragingly.

Harry nodded in thanks, threw the powder into the fireplace, stepped in, and shouted, "Diagonally!"

Harry tumbled down onto the ground. Looking around him, he couldn't find any trace of Percy.

All he could tell was that he was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop — but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list. A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a blood-stained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.

"Holy [censored]!" Harry shouted, jumping out of the shop and running in the direction of the end of the alley. "Oops!" he shouted, bumping into a tall blond man.

"Watch where you're going, Potter - what are you doing in Knockturn Alley?" the man (who eerily reminded him of Malfoy) snarled, leaning in closer to Harry.

"Don't touch me like that," Harry growled, smirking a little on the inside. "Pedophile! Rape! Sexual Assault! Help!" Hopefully, Malfoy would get in trouble...?

Unfortunately, he was in Knockturn Alley, and scenes like this were fairly common. Lucius Malfoy sneered down at the little boy. "Potter, you'll have to try better next time- OOF!" An invisible force had swung itself into his stomach. Malfoy Sr. doubled over, clutching his stomach. "Someone!" he wheezed. "Get the Potter boy!"

All around him, hags and other dark creatures turned to stare at Harry. Harry cursed as they began to crowd around him, blocking his way out. Harry could feel some gnarled claws digging into his right arm.

"BACK!" he bellowed. When nobody (or nothing) obeyed, Harry pushing his arms outwards, shoving everyone away from him. "BACK, I said!"

Almost immediately, a pale vampire leaped at Harry. Hags began pushing around, ready to snatch the remains of the Boy-Who-Lived. Malfoy sneered nastily from where he laid.

"BACK!" Harry bellowed. An invisible force slammed into the vampire, pushing him against the wall. The dark creatures around Harry began to back off. Harry immediately began sprinting for the end of the alley, which was probably (hopefully) Diagon Alley.

Breathing heavily, he finally noticed that he had made it. He was in Diagon Alley.

"HARRY?" Harry heard a shout.

"HERE!" he bellowed.

Mrs. Weasley came into sight. "Harry, why were you in Knockturn Alley? Are you okay?"

Harry sighed. "I think I said that wrong name in the fireplace."

"Oh, I see," Mrs. Weasley said before fussing over Harry. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I saw Lucius Malfoy in Borgin and Burkes," Harry said. "I was trying to run away, but he shouted for the dark creatures to attack me."

Mrs. Weasley gasped. "How did you escape?"

"Magic," Harry said smugly.

"B-b-but," she began. "Oh, you're Harry Potter. I should be used to this by now," she said, still fussing over him. "Come on," she said, dragging Harry back to the group. "I told them to go on ahead while I looked for you. We can go to Flourish and Blotts now, all alone with _the_ Gilderoy Lockhart!"

Harry sighed. "Who is Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Mrs. Weasley squealed (Harry needed that mental picture out of his head - and fast, too). "He's only the _cutest wizard ever!_ He's saved countless lives-"

"Okay, so?"

"HE'S SO CUTE!" Mrs. Weasley squealed again.

 _Aren't you married?_

Harry stepped into the bookstore after Mrs. Weasley. Lockhart, it seemed, was giving a speech or presentation.

Lockhart caught Harry's eyes. "And look!" he exclaimed, running to the bookstore's entrance. "If it isn't Harry Potter! Come on, Harry, you and I are worth the front page," Lockhart said, grabbing Harry's left arm and right hip.

Harry got another brilliant idea.

"Don't touch me like that," Harry growled, smirking a little on the inside. "Pedophile! Rape! Sexual Assault! Help!"

"EWWWW!" the middle-aged witches gathered in the bookstore all screamed. "Get off him!"

"HEEEEEEEEELP!" Harry squealed.

Almost immediately, Lockhart disengaged. "B-but-"

"I FELT SOMETHING!" Harry screamed.

Lockhart was stopped in his tracks. Even more luckily, nobody noticed Harry's smirk.

* * *

"Fight!" Fred shouted.

"Fight!" George shouted.

"Beat him up, Dad!" Ron shouted.

"Fight!" George shouted.

"Fight!" Fred shouted.

"Go Dad!" Ginny shouted.

"Fight!" Fred shouted.

"Fight!" George shouted.

"Go Mr. Weasley!" Harry cheered. _Wait a minute... Dobby had just warned him about Malfoy Sr..._

Harry walked over to Ginny's cauldron, withdrawing the books. Ginny looked at him fearfully.

"Don't worry, Ginny," Harry whispered to Ginny. "I've gotten a tip that Malfoy is going to do something bad to your books."

Harry looked at the books.

 _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

And some black book. _This looks suspicious_...

Harry flipped the book open.

"Wait a second," Harry said. "Who is T. M. Riddle?"

Malfoy was retreating quickly now, beating a hasty retreat. "STOP!" Harry shouted. Malfoy Jr. and Malfoy Sr. were frozen into place. Ron joined him in keeping Malfoy Sr. and Jr. stopped.

Harry strode up to them, carrying the black book. "Does this look familiar?" Harry asked. Malfoy Sr's eyes grew wide with fright and surprise.

 _Make him tell me the truth!_ Harry demanded.

Malfoy Sr nodded against his will.

"I need Dumbledore!" Harry shouted, looking at Mr and Mrs Weasley (who looked frozen into their places). "HELP! DUMBLEDORE!"

The old man appeared with his phoenix in hand. "Fawkes told me that someone was calling for my help," Professor Dumbledore said. The phoenix chirped in agreement.

"Malfoy Sr is going to use this against Ginny Weasley," Harry said.

Professor Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "Is this what I think it is?" he asked, talking to himself, reaching for the diary. He flipped to the first page.

 _T. M. Riddle_.

"LUCIUS!" the old man thundered. "You're coming with me!" He grabbed onto Lucius Malfoy and disappeared with a CRACK.

Malfoy Jr looked flabbergasted and fearful. "A-assault!" he yelled. "D-dumbledore kidnapped my father!"

Harry smirked at him. "That's my trick."

"HELP!" Malfoy Jr shouted. "DUMBLEDORE KIDNAPPED MY DADDY!"

A few people turned around and stared at Malfoy. _Dumbledore kidnapping people_? Unbelievable. They turned back around and walked off, disregarding the little boy's shouts for help.

The bookstore itself was disturbed by the violence. "OUT!" the patron said. "I will not have violence in here!"

"Uh," Harry tried pointing out. "The violence is over."

"OUT!"

The Weasley family bustled out of Flourish and Blotts, along with Harry.

"I guess we won't get the books," Mrs. Weasley said.

"What?" Harry asked. "Nonsense! I'll buy it for you guys!" He took off before Mrs. Weasley could protest.

"Children these days," Mrs. Weasley huffed before smiling. "They're so nice."

Mr. Weasley broke out of his stupor. "What the heck just happened here? Did Dumbledore and Malfoy-"

* * *

Thanks for reading, guys! It would be _awesome_ if you guys could **review**! It makes me feel so much better!


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